So... to populate this blog from the start rather than have it be dead and boring for an undetermined amount of time, we're going to post some old dreams here that we had documented elsewhere earlier in our lives. I'll start with this oldie-but-goodie.
(from June 19, 2006)
I was at the funeral of a guy whom I was really in love with (I think we might've been a couple, 'cos I was seriously in love with him), although it wasn't anyone from my real life. Pretty much everyone that I've seen, talked to or thought about in the past few days was at the funeral, including Mellowdrone and some of the people who were at the Austin and Dallas Mellowdrone shows. My coworkers were there, my sister and brothers, Amy, Val, Sabrina, Deidre, Bethany, Sara, Caitlin, Beth, Rafi, Leigh...so I'm serious when I say pretty much everyone I've interacted with in the past few days.
Anyway, we're in this funeral home that looks pretty much exactly like the one in Six Feet Under, and this guy whom I was in love with who died had apparently committed suicide, and had chosen Bright Eyes' "No Lies, Just Love" to play at his funeral. I was standing in the aisle in the back, watching everyone grieve and listening to this song, and I'm just sobbing, because I'm so sad and shocked and overwhelmed. Then suddenly, I became furious at the absurd emoness of the situation. I mean, what kind of asshole kills himself and then requests a Bright Eyes song to be played at his funeral, right? So this wave of blind hatred hits me, and I want to seriously hurt him. Of course I can't hurt him because he's dead, adding helpless frustration to the utter rage. Hot tears were coming out my eyes and burning my cheeks, and I was like, "If I don't do something right now, I'm going to claw my own face off." So suddenly I remember that I sell sex toys! Of course, hello! So I walk into the grieving room next to the funeral parlour, and of course my box of sex stuff is in there (I mean, why wouldn't it be?). I pull out this ginormous dildo, rush into the funeral parlour and up to the casket, and start trying to cram the dildo into this guy's dead mouth, screaming, "COCKSUCKER! YOU'RE A FUCKING COCKSUCKER! COCKSUCKER, I HATE YOU! SUCK A COCK YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKER!" It wasn't as easy as I had hoped, though, because his face was all cold and clammy and rigid, so I was kind of clawing at his chin with my hand, and his gross dead-guy makeup was getting under my nails and grossing me out, but I was so angry that I couldn't stop clawing at his chin with one hand and shoving the dildo into his lips with the other hand.
In the meantime, pretty much everyone at the funeral rushed up to me and was trying to stop me. Most people were grabbing my arms and waist, trying to pull me away from the casket, and someone was trying to pull the dildo out of my hand, but I looked over and a few people are just straight up laughing, namely: Jay, Bev, Beth, Rafi and Amy. There might've been more, but I don't remember. Seeing them laughing made me want to laugh, but then I was pissed off because I was losing my momentum, and I still really wanted to cram that dildo in his mouth. But then Jon (Mellowdrone's lead singer, for those of you who don't know) came up to me with a grave look on his face and began to chastise me: "Em, what are you doing? You're embarrassing Brian. Look! The man's blushing, Emily! Did your mother raise you to be like this?" I looked up and, sure enough, Brian (Mellowdrone's drummer, for those of you who don't know) was turned away from me, head down, face flushed, looking mortified.
Suddenly, I felt so guilty for making Brian feel bad that I was like, "Aw, Brian, no! It's ok! I wasn't really trying to cram a dildo down his throat! It's just a hankie, see?" And sure enough, my dildo was now a frilly hanky and everyone who had been trying to pull me away from the casket was magically back in their seats, except for Jon who was still standing in front of me, and Brian, who was now facing me to see whether I was holding a hankie or a dildo. (And by the way, I love the fact that we were even calling them "hankies" in my dream.) I sort of shook the hanky in the air so Brian could see it, and he cracked this huge, beautiful grin and said, "You should stick that up his nose." So I turned towards the coffin to cram the hankie up Dead Guy's nose when the thin little stick that was propping the coffin lid up snapped.
The crash of the coffin lid slamming down woke me up.
Moral of the story: If you ever date me, don't think about commiting suicide and having Bright Eyes played at your funeral, or you will get a dildo crammed in your mouth, or a hankie crammed up your nose, or both.
No comments:
Post a Comment